


Footsteps follow

by MacaulayClaire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, College | University Student Dean Winchester, F/M, Hunter Castiel (Supernatural), Kinda, M/M, reverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacaulayClaire/pseuds/MacaulayClaire
Summary: Richard Roman, number thirteen on the list of the most powerful men of America, builds a new SucraCrop headquarter.Dean Winchester, a local student, protests against it because he wants to impress Cassie Robbinson but soon finds himself risking his scholarships to stop Roman.Hunter of the supernatural Castiel Krushnick investigates the site, but for entirely different reasons.They meet by fate (and by both loving stupid ideas). Dean is fascinated by the man and doesn't understand why Cas keeps pushing him away.But Cas won't be able to protect Dean from the supernatural side of the world forever...
Relationships: Cassie Robinson/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 2





	1. Normal

Castiel Krushnick was doomed.

Which apparently had been a stray thought, and therefore a distraction enough. The fangs of the vampire hovered millimeters away from the soft skin of his throat and the stream of blood beneath. Castiel grunted. With his last strength, he pushed the vampire and it's foul breath away, far enough so that he could swing his machete. The head landed with a soft thud on the dirty ground of the abandoned fabric. Half a second later, the rest of the body crashed down as well. Castiel stepped over it and made his way outside. Guess it was laundry day. Again.

Castiel sat in the hospital. He did not go to hospitals as a rule. But this time, it was serious.

He had been on the search for the last vampire of the nest in Chigaco when he had come across Krissy. Krissy was barely old enough to drive but Krissy thought she could take on a vampire on her own. As this vampire had had a habit of playing with her food, Krissy was pretty messed up and she had a broken arm that needed some professional help.

So here they were. The tv was broken. The plastic of the chair was digging into his back. He leafed through one of the magazines lying around. It was a health magazine consisting of neutral, soft colors, pictures of running and healthy people and diet tips. An article about the dark side of the American food industry and especially a firm called SugraCrop selling high fructose syrup that had apparently been under investigation sat snugly at the end of the magazine. Cas read it, for a lack of something better to do. This had been the beginning even though he hadn't known it at the time. 

***

Dean Winchester was doomed.

He sat over his math homework; equations and crossed out numbers adorned the sheet of paper on the small table in front of his seat. Dean absently chewed on the end of his pencil and stared at the figures which were swimming in front of his eyes.

In the front of the lecture hall, the English professor droned on about everything wrong with Lady Macbeth.

Dean had to solve these equations before his next lecture, advanced algebra, started. But his thoughts were moving in a circle. He knew he would not get to the answer by staring at the problem. But looking up, doing something else felt too much like giving up. And if Dean was one thing, then it was stubborn.

A loud snort came from next to him as Ash lifted his head from the desk to stare blearily around the room. His eyes had a red tint. He smelled rather strongly of weed and sweat.

"Where are we?", he asked, not bothering to hide his yawn.

"The hell are we in class, Dean-o?"

"What?"

Ash snorted and sat up straight. He wore an obscure band t-shirt and a vest spiked with gleaming brass. He flicked his mullet back and glanced at Dean's equation.

"Give it up, comrade. You're not going to solve Mrs Bendray's mega-zero point something-problem in the next twenty minutes. Or ever."

"You did."

This let Dean pause. He turned towards Ash with his best imitation of Sam's puppy eyes.

A lazy grin stretched over Ash's face, his eyes still half-closed.

"Uh uh. Ya know I'm all for breaking the rules but this one is awesome."

Dean and Ash had been roommates since their first year at university. While Ash majored in computer science and Dean in mechanical engineering, they still managed to share some of their classes each semester, such as math.

This course, however, was especially hard as they had a cut-throat professor who gave them tasks that were more or less unsolvable for normal human beings. Dean could get close, get at the very least a good approach but Ash solved them without breaking a sweat (if he made the effort). So Dean had made him promise not to tell him the solution in order for him to work it out himself. Not that he would ever tell his little brother about this nerdy method, or about actually doing any homework. Dean could practically hear his laugh all the way from California.

The temptation to force Ash to help him was strong. He couldn't concentrate anymore and he needed to have a clue in roughly a quarter of an hour.

"A-Ash.", not-whined Dean.

"You haven't answered my question, Dean-o. Why is Doctor Badass sitting in an English class. Jesus Christ."

"Ugh, attendance 's mandatory or something."

  
"Yeah, but I haven't seen that man ever before." Ash squinted at the professor, a tiny figure way way down.

"Exactly."

The lecture came to an end and the students poured out of the room.

Dean and Ash did not hurry.

Mrs Brendray put them through the fryer during their next lecture so their brains were mush once they left the university building.

A gloomy atmosphere, heavy gray clouds and the sharp smell of snow held Boston in its grip, weighing on the mind of its inhabitants. A light rain had started to fall as soon as they stepped outside.

"Jesus, can this get any better?", muttered Dean who, in his thoughts, was already pouring over the paper he had to write preferably yesterday. He twisted his head as the familiar presence of Ash was missing. Students were hurrying past him, some of them greeting him.

His feet were already steering him towards the library, which looked like a beacon of hope in the gray and darkening winter day, promising warmth, quiet and coffee.

But then, Ash caught up with him and Dean knew this dream was over. Ash had an unnatural aversion to the library and he was even more stubborn than Dean.

"Stop everything, comrade. There's a party tonight at Bela's and we're going."

Dean grinned as procrastination was one of his more unfortunate characteristics.

"Jeez, not that bitch. Whatever, but first, food. I'm friggin starving."

"Colour me surprised.", said Ash in that slight drawl of his and off they went to find the food truck right around the corner.

Bela Talbot's house parties were indeed _house_ parties, not crammed - apartement - parties as it was sometimes the case for students.

She was filthy rich, had dropped out of Harvard Law School a year ago and was now a successful businesswoman although nobody really knew in what and most people were too afraid to ask. They would find out sooner than later.

Bela Talbot was also a complete bitch and Dean's and her relationship was…complicated.

They heard, or better yet felt the bass of the music from the street. The house, grande, imposing, surrounded by an English garden that, in January, was just as dead as everything else ( a surprise for Dean as he would have thought the grass to be as fake as it's owner). Shards of a broken wine glass glittered like deadly snow on the path leading to the door. Dean hoped the dark spots blotching the stone next to it were indeed wine.

A group of smokers, huddled together in the cold, the glimming of their cigarettes dimmed as the porch light went on, stood on the Marmor steps leading to the front door. Two of them were wearing suits, their black dress shoes shining in the cold light. Harvard bastards, probably lawyers. Oh how Dean wished he could have talked Sammy out of wanting to become one himself.

Inside, they were greeted by a wall of warm air, the smell of sweat and cheap beer as well as the host herself.

They were standing on the floor, better to say the entrance hall which was almost as big as their apartment. The floor was speckled marble, the winding staircase to their right as well. It reeked of pretentiousness. Bela came out of a small door, behind her a jock carrying some bottles of wine. She lifted an eyebrow as she saw Dean and Ash and looked Dean up and down in a manner that made him cross his arms defensively.

"Bela, my friend.", said Ash and clapped her on the arm, not missing her disgusted look. "What an honor to be here." He rubbed his hands together, focussing on the room down the hallway were the music came from and people spilled out of. "Let's get this party staarted." And off he went.

"Dean Winchester, what a nice surprise.", her cool voice said.

"I know." Dean smirked. "I'm adorable."

"Mh-m."

"You letting college students drink your 800 dollar wine, Bela, really?"

Bela scoffed. "Don't you worry. It's the cheap stuff. You wouldn't know class if it bit you in the arse."

"I'm offended, sweetheart."

"Oh I know." A shark-like grin spread over her fine features. "You fluster so easily, darling. I assume you pay the entrance fee for your friend as well." She held out her open hand.

Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled. Bela may be richer than god, but she would never spend money on anything but herself.

A few hours later, and Dean was well and truly drunk. He was dancing, no, drunkenly swaying to some shitty top 40 music, the floor sticky and the lights dimmed. He hadn't seen Ash since the beginning of the night. Dean opened his eyes. A petite girl was dancing in front of him, dark eyes looking up at him under even darker lashes. She looked vaguely familiar. Dean smiled and flirted back, an automatic reaction at this point in his life.

They went and got some shots in the kitchen. Maybe not such a good idea for Dean who had a hard time keeping the Tequila down. He excused himself, felt like he was suffocating in the stuffy and stale air.

Dean stepped outside. The cold air was a shock to his system although it didn't manage to completely break through his alcohol-induced haze. He sunk onto the steps. A couple was necking in the shadows, the girl clad in a mini rock. Dean shuddered. They broke apart and Dean recognized them as Andy and Layla, students he occasionally ate lunch with although they ran in different social circles.

"God, Dean." exclaimed Layla as she saw him. "You scared me."  
Dean grinned slowly.

"Man, not that I wouldn't be open to some action with both of you, but just staring is seriously creepy.", said Andy.

"Aw, but ew. Don' worry, Andy.", said Dean.

"He's wasted.", grinned Andy.

Layla didn't look so happy, only annoyed. "Should we, like, do something?"

"Eh." was Andys eloquent answer. His round face brightened. "I know..hey Dean, I know where Ash could be. Let's get you there, yeah?"

They both hieved Dean up which was not a small feat as neither Andy nor Layla had any muscle power to begin with and lifting a six feet man would be a challenge for anyone.

"D'you know where Ash is, or…Pam, or…Sam?", slurred Dean.

They dragged him back into the house and through the living room, which was still packed with drunken people. The next room was smaller and eye-watering because of the concentrated pungent smell. They pushed Dean down next to Ash who was sitting on the floor on a plush carpet.

For the next hours, Dean listened to the slow dribble of conversation. The worst of the alcohol left his head but only being in the room was enough to make him high which wasn't much better. He fell asleep.

Dean woke up to a splitting headache.

Eery silence surrounded hin which was already too much noise with the pounding of his heart in his ears. He groaned and opened a sleep-crusted eye. Bile rose in his throat as he moved his head to look around. Dean's heart sunk as he realized he was still at Bela's.

He barely made it to the bathroom in time, relieved it had been the first door he had tried. Lucky guess. Long, long minutes later he crept out of the bathroom. Early morning light filtered through the large windows and highlighted the mess the first floor of Bela's house was in. But Dean seemed to be the only one still here. Even Ash was gone. The bastard had just left him in the lion's den. He gritted his teeth, a notion of real hurt clouding his mind. Even though Ash and Dean weren't the kind of people to be dependent on one another in social situations, Dean was pretty sure he had been right next to the guy at the end of the party.

A soft voice got louder. Bela walked down the stairs, clad in a satin and golden shimmering robe and looking well-rested which was just not fair. She was talking to someone on the phone and by the sharp focus in her face it seemed to be important.

"Mr. Roman, I _assure_ you…yes, as I said, I _assure_ you... we secured their cooperation. …" her fingers trailed down the railing but they soon balled into a fist. "Listen, _Richard_ , I do not make mistakes. …Of course. I'll be there."

She hung up and her eyes fell on Dean who was leaning against a wall and grinning up at her (at a great personal cost, but he did not want Bela to know how hungover and _in pain_ he really was).

"Who was that?"

Bela lifted an eyebrow. "Don't you worry your pretty little head."

Dean rubbed his hands. "So, breakfast." he exclaimed overly cheerful just to annoy Bela.

Bela had reached the bottom and looked in disgust at the mess in her living area.

"If you want to clean up this mess. But you are not getting any of my caviar, darling."

"Aand that's my cue to go.", said Dean and grabbed his jacket. Bela busied herself in the kitchen.

"You're not going to leave me alone with this mess, are you?"  
" 'fraid so."

"Where is my goodbye kiss?"

"Screw you." Dean shouted, on his way to the door.

He winced as he was confronted with the brightness of the sky. The pounding headache had only gotten worse, as he should have expected out of a conversation with Bela Talbot.

The car of a cleaning firm had just parked outside the mansion. Dean rolled his eyes and then made his way to the other side of the city to go sulk at Ash.

And write that report. Shit.


	2. A call from Jo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: I've never been to Boston and what I know about the American education system I know from the media and half-hearted research but as I am not aiming for complete accuracy I hope you can forgive me. :)

Pale sunlight was filtering through the high window, painting glowing streaks on the bare walls of the small claustrophobic room.

"Hello Anna.", greeted Castiel his sister. As always, he hovered awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for a response.

Anna's pale blue eyes focused on him as he wandered deeper into the room. It was empty save for the bed, a small closet and a steel chair. Cas sat down and smiled at his sister.

She was sitting cross-legged on the grey bedding, her red hair flowing down her shoulders and burning auburn in the sunlight, a stark contrast against the white of her hospital clothing. She was balancing a wad of paper on her knees. Crayons were spread out around her.

"May I see what you are drawing?"

Anna finished shading in some details, the pen scratching across the paper. Cas waited and used the time to observe his big sister.

She had been in the St. Folconieri psychiatric hospital for five years. She had been an exuberant child, Castiel remembered following her around everywhere as he had been a chubby and bullied child. But Anna grew up to develop severe depression, phases that were interfered with emotional highs so that one doctor even diagnosed her as having a bipolar disorder. Another doctor wasn't of the same opinion. To this day, it isn't clear whether he simply came to a different diagnosis as does happen or whether he had been paid off by their parents. Naomi and Ion Krushnik were devout Christians who were keener to the creationist mindset than anything else so that they could not accept their daughter having some sort of "problem".

Anna handed him her drawing by tearing the sheet of paper and separating it from the rest. It tore because it was the cheap printer paper and Castiel was careful not to scrunch it in his hands.

He looked at the detailed image of a slim church window. The colourful glass shards painted the picture of Jesus walking on a stormy sea and pulling a man out of the water with one hand. Castiel knew that window as it is the one from the church they used to go to with their parents. Castiel spent hours staring at this image. He was never quite sure whether Jesus was actually trying to help the man or pushing him down.

"It's beautiful.", he said as he forced down the lump in his throat.

Anna was a talented artist. She had run away to art school in California as soon as she had turned eighteen. Castiel didn't see her again until he had left for college to major in accounting, as his parents had wished.

"Castiel, -", she began and that hurt. Anna was the only one who refused to call him by his full name, only ever Cassie.

"- How did you find me?"

Castiel gave her back her drawing and as he tried to smile up at her he felt like that little brother again.

"What do you mean, Anna? Of course, I found you. "

"I suppose you did.", she mused. "How are the rents?"

Castiel closed his eyes. "They are dead, Anna.", he reminded her gently.

She didn't answer, just stared out of the window with a faraway look.

Naomie and Ion had died, together with the seventy-five passengers of The Helena, a cruise ship. Castiel was one of the two survivors and one of the handful of people who really knew what had happened.

Castiel had been twenty and had just finished his second year at college when he went on this vacation together with his parents. He had meet a short guy with golden hair and a mean smirk that was often obstructed by a lollipop. They became…friends. Castiel was hesitant to describe that term to their relationship as Cas was never one to warm up to people quickly so that the main reason why they hung out was that Gabriel had taken a liking to him and that Castiel's parents were mostly involved in couple's activities.

Castiel forced the memories away before they turned to the ugly part. Point is, Anna never got over their parent's death, even though they had been estranged for years.

"I've brought you new paper." Castiel handed her the binder. "The lady at the art store recommended it, uhm, it is thicker than the paper they give you here. And it is, like, rougher." He frowned, trying to remember what else she had told him.

Anna investigated the paper by turning up the first page and driving over it with the pad of her finger.

"This is very thoughtful of you. Thank you."

They had called Castiel in the middle of the night, a year after the cruise ship accident. They had had to admit her to St. Folconieris because she had been wandering around the highway. Her mind wasn't the same. It was like dementia, just that the memories weren't 'deleted', just repressed, but still, chances of recovery were slim to nonexistent.

"I can bring you some more the next time I'm visiting.", Castiel promised and instantly felt guilty because he only ever managed to visit Boston once or twice a year.

Anna hummed. "Don't worry. I've got paper at home. But still, it's very thoughtful of you, Cassie."

She took his hand into her.

She smiled so he smiled and it was almost normal again.

***

He was stepping outside the St. Folconieris as his phone started to ring.

"You remember Walt?"

"Hello, Jo.", Castiel greeted the feisty young hunter.

Bill Harvelle, her father, had looked into The Helena's sinking and subsequently stumbled over the revenge-driven Castiel. They had killed the Skylla responsible for his parent's death and Bill had introduced him to the world of hunting by bringing him with him back to the roadhouse.

"Castiel, you ass. When are you visiting again? Mum's… worried."

Castiel shuddered at the thought of Ellen Harvelle, a truly scary women who had put the fear of god in many seasoned hunters.

"Soon. A few weeks, probably."

"Whatever. Are you near Boston yet?"

"Yes." While Castiel did not tend to talk about his family, he had told Joanna he was going to visit the city.

"You haven't answered my question yet."

"What question, Joanna?"  
"You know Walt?"  
"...no? I do not think so."  
"Well, he's a regular at the roadhouse. Picked up a construction job in Boston. Which is fucking crazy this time of the year."

Castiel hummed in agreement. February was not a normal or advisable time to work outside.

"Anyways, Walt was pretty sure there was something fishy going on at the worksite. Like, workers just..vanishing. Suspicious traces but no bodies. Called Tuesday, out of his mind, said he found an arm that had looked chewed on. I think he was wasted. But he wanted us to forward it to Roy cause he couldn't reach him. Roy's stuck in California and Walt hasn't called since. Could you go check it out?"


	3. The old Hyatt's

They came across a protest on their way from campus. A few people, mostly students and residents.

A small gathering, not more than twenty, thirty people were clustered together at the edge of the street- behind them sat a monster of a building, roughly ten floors, it looked like a flattened pyramid consisting of huge stones, the windows dull, some of them broken in.

It was obviously abandoned, not as long as that the building itself could derelict or that street gangs could have claimed ownership. Which was smart considering the building, which was set back from the street on a decently large property was actually in a pretty good location. It overlooked the Charles River which was almost across the street (well, the biking path and a few feet of a stony bank were also between them).

Dean and Cassie came closer. The bike that Cassie pushed beside her made a rhythmical clicking sound which was soon drowned out by the speaker and the general chatter.

"What pissed in their Wheaties?", asked Dean.

"That's the Hyatt Hotel. Or was, rather.", explained Cassie, a journalism major with her curly black hairs ending just over her red leather jacket. "Went broke like a year ago. There are some rumors that the Hyatt has a new owner. But they wouldn't tell us anything at the city hall."

"We will not let those sons of a bitches settle down in Boston!"

The crowd agreed enthusiastically and loud.

"I like her.", mused Dean.

"Psh.", said Cassie who listened closely as they stopped at the edge of the gathering.

"You can see it all over the country. They destroy our local economy. They poison our rivers. The water we have to drink. But nobody is going to help us. We are the only ones who can help us. Before it's too late! Roman can buy out the politicians. But not us!"

The crowd applauded and whistled.

Cassie and Dean were both confused, but there was a horrified realization dawning on Cassie's face. She got on her toes to look around. Dean pointed at a sign erected just on the edge of the property. He nudged Cassie so that she could see it as well.

Roman Enterprises, stood there in bold letters. Next to a text that was too far away to be read properly, there was a large picture, a headshot that took up half of the space. A middle-aged, white businessmen flashed them his blinding white teeth, smiling coyly.

"Richard Roman bought the Hyatt hotel to build a fucking fabric there! _And_ the Boston branch headquarter!", Cassie exclaimed, her normal iron attitude fraying at the edges.

Dean winced and held the phone away from his ear.

"Calm down, Cassie. Tell me what happened."

He sat up from where he was slouched over his laptop on the sagging couch. His eyes were burning from the artificial brightness and night had long since fallen over the city since Dean had sat down to _finally_ finish that paper after his shift at the garage.

After the incident in front of the old Hyatt, they had gone to Cassie's favorite Chinese restaurant on a study date. Well, Dean had hoped for the date-part anyway. They had studied little anyway, talking more about college and swapping theories of what all the noise about the Hyatt was actually about.

"Richard Roman is the CEO of Roman Enterprises. But apparently he owns a fuck-ton other companies as well. Such as SugroCrop which produces high fructose corn syrup that is used by basically everyone, almost every fast-food chain."

"So, what? He wants to plant a fabric for Sugracrab at the Hyatt's? What's the big deal?"

Cassie sighed. "I'm sending you a few links. If you're interested - "

"I am," said Dean.

At least he was interested in Cassie but he definitely won't tell her that. "Really." But he also hated rich scumbags screwing other people over. He thought back to the demonstration and the yelling woman. He especially hated people screwing over children, as was always the case when living conditions and the public health were threatened. Some scumbags just didn't deserve to get away with all that money could buy them. Dean thought back to the house in South Dakota where they had lived with Bobby when he had been a teenager. The peeling paint and outdated kitchen utensils. It had been his first real home in almost a decade but they were evicted when Dean was sixteen because of the construction of a new shopping mall.

"You gonna do anything about it?", he asked.

Three days later, construction workers swarmed to the old Hyatt to start renovating and rebuilding it.

A week later, they built a massive fence after one or three unfortunate incidents with protestors and critical journalists alike (and one mechanical engineering student who kinda short-circuited an excavator and, well, Dean was just happy that he could sweet-talk his way out of an arrest as his scholarships would have been in danger otherwise).

Cassie and her group of social justice warrior friends spread the news and steered the attention to the building half a mile away from campus and what would happen to the Charles were Roman to direct the fabric's wastewater into the river as he had done in other locations in the past (and present).

Dean, as he had a frankly embarrassing crush on Cassie, met up with her between drowning in assignments and trying to pick up more shifts at the garage to cover a sudden new year's increase in their rent. He had already known that she was a total badass, not taking shit from anyone and especially not Dean.

"You really surprised me.", mused Cassie as she lay on his chest, drawing circles on his skin.

Dean smirked.

Cassie rolled her eyes, but still, her words were less sharp. "Not like that."

"Oh c'mon. You have to admit were friggin' amazing together."

"Passable." Her skin was glowing in the soft light of his bedside lamp and Dean wanted to kiss her.

"Ouch. Wanna try again? Second time's the charm and all."

She smirked up at him and then rolled over so she was laying next to him and grabbed her phone. "Later. Point is, I didn't pick you as an idealist."

"A what?"

"No matter. I didn't think you would care about the problem with the Hyatts. Buff white guy, macho, not someone who is stereotypically associated with social justice or the kind of people who normally get involved with protests."

"You mean vegetarians?"  
"No." Then she reconsidered. "Well, yes, those as well."  
"Well, I don't get vegetarians. Like, at all." Dean shuddered. "But I can respect people who stand up for something."

Silence.

"You won't get brownie points for caring, though."

Dean pouted.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Dean stretched his arms over his head and turned his head so he could look at Cassie who was typing away on her phone.

"We're giving out some flyers on Saturday. Tamara just sent the finished design. If you're in."

"What are some flyers gonna do?" He frowned.

Cassie opened her mouth but Dean beat her to it. "Like, I get why, like distribute information and stuff. But…Batman doesn't win by giving out frigging flyers, you know. Instead, we could do something _real_. Something that's gonna change things. Like last week. Okay, we were almost sued for trespassing and vandalism but at least we sent a clear sign, fought back. "

Cassie laid her phone down and kissed his shoulder. "You're sweet. And I get it, it's frustrating how slow and frankly boring activism is most of the time. But we're not in a superhero movie."

"Still,"

"Dean -"

"Yeah, got it. When?"

"Around three."

"Can't. Gotta put in my hours at the garage."

Cassie pressed her lips together but didn't comment.

"Let's think of something else."

"I have classes tomorrow."

Dean grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows. "Evil doesn't sleep either."

"This is bullshit.", grumbled Dean as they stood across the street of the old Hyatt, or better to say the new SucroCrop Central.

Of course, they could only see the top half of the building due to the high fence. January had bled into February and finally March. The construction workers had been more than efficient, even though there had been rumored to be some accidents caused by the long and grueling work hours. The Roman lawyers were more than efficient even though there had been valid resistance by residents, by non-profit organizations and their lawyers, hell, by the frigging university.

The public opinion was very much divided but all this didn't matter in the end because the fabric had been build. As far as their research went, only the lower half of the Hyatt's (and some possibly new side buildings) actually served as a place to process the corn syrup. In this regard, this place was only a small producer. The upper part of the building was office space - the Boston branch of Roman's SucroCrop.

"You tell me, comrade. Plus side, sweetener could get cheaper for us. Could plead a case with the dining hall, right, Cassie.", said Ash and clapped him on the shoulder.

"No. Definitely not. ", said Cassie in a clipped tone.

Cassie and Ash were like oil and water. They did not get along at all. The list of reasons was long, starting with the contradiction of Ash's questionable moral (if he had any) and Cassie's rigid social justice stand. Still, Ash was kind of a genius which insofar was no rarity here but as far as hacking into things went he was one of the best. So Dean had vouched for the guy so Ash could help them (unofficially) with their Anti-Sucracrop campaign.

And as long Dean was in a good mood, it was kinda hilarious to put these two together in a room.

A black and slick car rolled up in front of the gate and the guard let it open.

They watched it roll down the gravel. A petite girl with fiery red hair and at least as bright clothes slipped out of the closing gate. She waved at the guard and then walked off, chunky yellow headphones firmly in place. She twirled around between one step and the next and it looked as if she was singing along.

The guard stared at them and then crossed his arms.

"Ouch, doesn't look as if he's happy to see us.", grinned Ash.

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

Dean's phone pinged. "Yeah, let's move this party along. We've got class in ten."

"You're no fun, Dean-o."

"I've been keeping you in school since freshman year, dude. You would have missed like, half the exams without me reminding you."

"And I'm telling you, comrade, this whole university-shtick is not for me. It's boring me to death. And that's nooot the way I intend to go."

"You guys are unbelievable.", said Cassie.

"Aw, you love it, babe.", grinned Dean and slung an arm around her shoulder.

"Don't call me babe, stupid."


End file.
